I’m currently reading The Fault in Our Stars by John Green. I’m not quite half way through, but it is the most honest book I’ve read. His words hit a sweet spot, resonating like the perfect pitch of a tuning fork, but still managing to plunge into my heart and yank (a lot like the evil, bald guy in Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom). But why does it feel so true? It’s fiction, he even added an Author’s Note to emphasize that he made it up. He goes on to add, that trying to find facts and real events within a novel “attack(s) the very idea that made-up stories can matter, which is sort of the foundational assumption of our species.” And here, dear reader, is what I want to talk about. The how and why made-up stories do matter so much.
To put this in context within my world, my husband and I are two different types of readers: one might argue we are a modern day Plato and Aristotle, arguing over the merits of art as an imitation of life. He prefers non-fiction, finding the imitation of life within fiction too false, too contrived, too inconsequential. It didn’t happen, therefore, it doesn’t matter.
I argue fiction allows an author a greater ability for candor and authenticity (and as this is my blog, I will, of course, be right). In fiction, the author can add events, characters, and nuances to heighten the humor, poignancy, and verity; details that make it more specific and more universal at the same time. It becomes an Everyman type of experience versus a Joe Friday documentary focusing on “Just the facts, M’aam.”
In The Fault in Our Stars, we meet Hazel, a teenager struggling with cancer and its many side effects. While fully developed with wonderful quirks, Hazel is a figment of John Green’s imagination. Hiding behind the fictitious Hazel’s unique perspective and dark humor, Green can explore the real feelings, emotions, and pain inherent in the plot. In non-fiction works, it is easy to get distracted by the facts, the timelines, the accuracy. Fiction frees the author to focus on what really matters – honesty of the heart; giving the reader a more genuine reflection of life.
Based on my minimal fiction-writing experience, dismissing the limitations of accuracy lets us explore meaning more efficiently and effectively. The writer can expose beliefs, feelings, weaknesses, and even secrets without admitting, “This is real.” Instead, she can hide behind the veil of imitation, but ultimately be more truthful.
So, dear reader, I apologize for letting my academic roots show, but The Fault in Our Stars demands to be thought about. I hope you pick it up, and let yourself roll around in its candor. Next week, back to my agent queries, manuscript edits, and the general neurotic nature of trying to publish my novel.
*Note: John Green spent months (it’s well documented on youtube.com) signing the first 150,000 copies. If you search the shelves, you may find your own J-scribble. Look for the yellow “signed copy” sticker on the cover.
